


Falling Leaves

by Redisaid



Series: Falling [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Canon, Back when Sylvanas had time for games, Elf ears are great, F/F, Fluff, I mean it could have happened but it didn't, Injury Recovery, Jaina is a little shit, Magical Shenanigans, Meet-Cute, More like Snarkvanas Shaderunner - Ranger General of Sassymoon, Oh yeah this is a 10k meet-cute, Pre-Third War, Sharing a Bed, Stream of Consciousness, There's a shit ton more fluff tropes in there that I just don't feel like looking up the tags for, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redisaid/pseuds/Redisaid
Summary: Apprentice mage Jaina Proudmoore is not one to turn down a challenge. Unfortunately, she bites off a little more than she can chew, and ends up alone and injured in the distant forests of Quel'thalas. Well, not entirely alone...





	Falling Leaves

“Easy now. Lay still. You’re injured.” An accented voice woke her from her stupor. Jaina didn’t know she was moving, but apparently, it had been enough to cause concern.

She also had no idea where she was or who was talking to her. 

She was leaning against something hard. Her right arm was throbbing, ebbing one dull wave of pain after another up from her wrist. Someone was pushing her back down with a firm grip.

The last thing she could remember was showing off in professor Brightsinger's translocation class. They were practicing basic city teleports and location magic. It was all old news for Jaina. Unlike the other apprentices in her group, she had already pretty much mastered teleportation and the art of figuring out how to choose a safe location to teleport oneself to. 

Of course, she had made the mistake of telling the professor that she was bored just one too many times.

She could remember the annoyed tone of her teacher, as the cranky elven woman handed Jaina a strange feather, “Fine then, Proudmoore. If you feel you are so far above my lessons, then here. Take yourself to the place where this came from. Briefly, I might add. Don't go off exploring. Then come back here and tell me what you saw. If you make it to the right location, then I will write up that recommendation you’ve been begging me for. For now--for both of our sakes--please just get out of my classroom.”

She remembered the feel of the feather, its weight and shape. She couldn't place what kind of bird it had come from. It was almost a little scale-like, with a metallic sheen to it. But she knew one thing for certain--it was absolutely resonating with traces of arcane magic. 

She did as she was told, smiling triumphantly at the professor as she held out the feather in front of her. She followed the tendrils of energy that emanated from it, feeling them twist and turn, revealing a pattern. They spoke of the life of the creature who drew upon this power, a large and wondrous beast. For a moment, Jaina felt as if she were a part of it. She was graceful and strong. She could fly. She soared over an ancient forest, feeling the currents of arcane running beneath the trees. They pointed north, toward a massive source of power.

It was a beautiful place, once home to an even more beautiful creature. As pleased as she was with her ability to find it from a mere feather, Jaina was just as excited to go there and see it for herself. She was so excited that she didn’t think twice before casting her spell and following those arcane threads until they unraveled at the other end.

And straight into the sky. Then from there, straight into a tree.

Oh. Right. She had teleported over the forest, and fallen into it. She was lucky to be alive, much less conscious.

And only slightly mortified, as there was no doubt professor Brightsinger would scoff gleefully at this failure when Jaina made it back to Dalaran.

But for now, she had the heavy task of opening her eyes to dwell on. Her vision was blurry, indistinct. Everything around her appeared to be showered in gold. Tall, ancient trees with golden leaves. Though the autumn air was crisp around her, the shade of gold was just too evenly spread among the leave to be entirely natural. Golden grasses beneath them only served as more evidence. Last, but certainly not least, a golden-haired high elf, was looking at her with worried pale blue eyes.

“Quel'thalas. I’m in Quel’thalas!” Jaina breathed, finding her exclamation came out with more of a struggle than she expected, and with it, new hurts along her rib cage.

“Yes, that's where you are,” the elf told her. “Though how or why you ended up here, I'm not sure.”

“I have to...I have to go back,” Jaina realized, knowing that the elves kept their kingdom closed to most outsiders, and that she was definitely not welcome there, at least not without a proper escort and many months of planning and paperwork. She tried to lift her right hand to cast a teleportation spell back to Dalaran, only to find that her hand did not respond. Instead of an intricate weaving of fingers and magic, she produced only a mess of pain and shock. Jaina cried out as the sensation overwhelmed her.

Gold became a flash of white, then black again.

When she came to for the second time, the gold around her was fading. She was flat on her back. She opened her eyes to a canopy of leaves, with only hints of an evening sky peeking through it. Beside her, a fire crackled to life, popping and snapping. She could only just feel its warmth.

And she hurt. Everything hurt. But her hand? What happened to her hand? She tried to sit up again.

A gentle shove, if such a thing existed, kept her on the ground, unable to look at anything other than the leaves above. 

A delicate elven face came into view, mingling with the canopy. Jaina could see her better now. High cheekbones, soft pale gold hair, long ears that swiveled with subtle movements, and the same concern in her kohl-lined eyes, this time mixed with annoyance. She wasn’t happy, but that didn’t make her any less stunning. 

“I said be still,” she warned. “You are injured. My Common isn’t that bad, right? You can understand me?”

Her Common was fine, unpracticed maybe, and carrying the same lilting accent that most high elves had, but very much understandable.

“Don't nod,” she commanded harshly as she saw Jaina try to respond. “Talk, softly.”

“I understand,” Jaina told her. “I just...my hands…”

How could she even portray this? She needed her hands. She needed them to be fine. She needed to get back to Dalaran, to cast, to be the incredible mage she was turning out to be. She needed her fucking hands.

“Your right wrist is broken,” the elf reported with an oddly calm tone. “Along with at least two ribs, and maybe a collar bone. Your hands are fine. Were I a healer, we would already have you mended and on your way. Unfortunately, I am not, and you managed to find yourself in one of the most remote forests in Quel’thalas. Fortunately for you, the crash you made scared off all the game in the area, so I had no choice but to go find out what ruined my hunting trip.”

“I'm sorry,” Jaina said carefully. “But thank you all the same for finding me. I, um--I'm an apprentice mage training in Dalaran. I had a bit of a teleportation...accident.”

The elf gave her a quizzical look. Her ears flicked outward slightly. Jaina didn’t know what that meant, but from her encounters with the high elves in Dalaran so far, she knew that their ears basically spoke an entire language of their own. If only she could understand it.

When the elf didn’t otherwise respond Jaina felt that she needed to offer more, “My name is Jaina Proudmoore. I am truly sorry about ruining your hunt. I would shake your hand, but I think you would probably just push me down again if I tried, so...yeah…”

“You may call me Sylvanas,” the elf told her. “I am a ranger, so I'm afraid I cannot take you home quickly or heal your wounds. But I have sent a message to my squadron to come to our aid. They have a priestess with them who can mend you. They are a day's journey from here, maybe two, so until then, I will stay here to keep you from having any more of your accidents.”

“Well, I won’t be able to get myself into that situation again until I’m healed at least. So I guess you get to have a fun day or so of making me stay still. Again, thank you for that, and I’m sorry,” Jaina apologized.

The elf let out a sigh at that realization. She then shifted her position, leaning further over Jaina and holding up a hand in front of her. “How many fingers?” Sylvanas asked.

“Just the two?” Jaina answered, counting the digits she was holding up. Elves had such graceful little hands.

Sylvanas then proceeded to move said fingers around in the air, and watched intently as Jaina's eyes tracked them. Seemingly satisfied, she leaned back again, saying, “Well, at least you don’t have a concussion.”

She then stood up, allowing Jaina to finally see her in full. She was wearing a beautifully made set of leathers, which were simple by elven standards, but seemed wondrous to Jaina. They were dyed a deep blue green color, and traced with golden filigree. Jaina could only just see the tip of the bow slung over her back, as well as a full quiver of arrows, and a dark colored full cloak. Her ears flicked again as she looked off into the forest, jingling a large golden earring on one of them. It was shaped like the leaves of the great trees that surrounded them.

Sylvanas put up the hood of her cloak, turned, and started to walk away. 

“Hey wait! You just said you were going to stay with me!” Jaina protested, loudly enough that her broken ribs throbbed anew.

“I won’t be far off,” Sylvanas said, even as her voice grew further and further away. “I need to see if I can find a few things before dark. Scream if a lynx comes near and I will hear you.”

“A lynx? Wait! Sylvanas!” Jaina cried out.

A distant sing-song voice returned, “Better a lynx than a dragonhawk. The dragonhawk would just pick you up and take you away before I could make it back. At least you would have a chance with a lynx.”

And thus, Jaina spent a lovely evening watching the canopy for dragonhawks, cataloguing her injuries, and fearing for her life as the golden forest grew dark. She had honestly never seen a dragonhawk, and had no idea what she was really looking for. She had only read about them in books. She knew that elves tamed the beasts and rode them, so they were large enough to allow for that. That meant they were definitely large enough to eat her.

Thankfully, the sky above remained quiet, with the rustling of leaves and branches as it's only activity. The wind picked up as full dark drew near, swaying the trees into a hushed melody. If Jaina weren't so keenly aware of being alone in the dark in an unfamiliar wilderness, she might have found it to be a soothing lullaby.

As it was, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice suddenly joined in with that melody, humming along to the song of the trees and the wind.

“Sylvanas? Is that you? Please tell me it's you,” Jaina pleaded. The only thing that kept her from turning to see was the fact that it was coming from the same direction as her broken ribs.

Boots scuffed near the fire beside her. A laugh joined in with the humming, just a small thing, light and musical as the tune itself. “Don't worry, little human. You and I are the only things capable of humming for miles around,” Sylvanas answered, finally coming to stand over her. “And you didn’t move. See? You're learning.”

“Learning that I should have chosen someone else's forest to fall into,” Jaina replied. “You had me scared to death.”

“On the contrary, I had your best interests in mind,” Sylvanas told her. She held up her hands for Jaina to see. One held a bundle of herbs, another a rabbit, shot clean through the eye. 

“Oh,” was all Jaina could say.

“What is the human expression? Hmm...ah yes, you're welcome,” Sylvanas said as she turned back to the fire. Jaina got the distinct impression that she knew the phrase very well in more than just Common. “Like I said before, I'm no healer, but I do know enough herb lore to make you a draught that will ease your pain. As for the rabbit, well, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry.”

Jaina silently marvelled at her as Sylvanas seemingly went to work by the fire. She sat down and began humming again. Small sounds accompanied her work--the scraping of a knife, the fire sparking as she added more wood to it, something metal filling with water.

It was strange to see, well, to hear at least, an elf go about such simple, homely tasks. All those that Jaina had met in her studies had been nothing like Sylvanas. They were so haughty and vain. She couldn't picture any of them sitting in the dirt and gutting a rabbit.

“Why are you out here alone?” Jaina found herself wondering aloud. It was the least offensive of the many questions that were popping into her mind.

“I told you,” Sylvanas responded. “A hunting trip.”

“Alone? With nothing? Not even a cabin to stay in or a horse to ride out on?” Jaina pressed.

“I'm a ranger, child. Alone and with nothing is the best way to hunt, much less to exist. I know the forest well enough to find everything I might need here. A horse or hawkstrider would be a burden out here, not a luxury. Believe it or not, this is how I choose to spend my leave, when I can,” Sylvanas answered.

“It’s just that most elves, at least the ones I've met, they're...fancy, I guess? They all have nice clothes and enchanted everything, and if they drop something they look at me to pick it up for them,” Jaina tried to explain.

Sylvanas chuckled, “Yes, that does sound like Dalaran, doesn't it. I can assure you that my people aren't all like the mages you've met. I mean, we tend to be a little more refined, don’t get me wrong, but we run the same spectrums of life that humans do.”

Jaina had just one more pressing question, “What's going to happen to me, once your friends get here? I know humans aren't exactly allowed to just drop in to Quel'thalas.”

“Literally drop in, even. As I have no desire to do any unnecessary paperwork when I get back home, I imagine that we will let you teleport yourself back to where you came from, with a lesson in caution hopefully well-learned,” Sylvanas told her, then went back to humming again.

Jaina breathed out a fear she didn’t know she had been holding in. No doubt she would be in enough trouble for being gone this long. She didn't need to be the cause of a diplomatic incident on top of it all.

She laid still and listened. The fire popped, water boiled, and Sylvanas kept humming along with the trees. 

Fears of dragonhawks and international embarrassment aside, Jaina finally found herself being lulled into sleep by those simple sounds. Just as she was drifting off, an arm crawled it's way painfully under her shoulders, lifting her up.

“No sleeping yet,” Sylvanas scolded her as she lifted Jaina slowly. “Not until you drink this and have something to eat.”

A mug was being held to her lips. It was made of beaten up metal, truly something from a soldier's mess kit, but it was also warm and smelled of sweet flowers. Peacebloom and Silverleaf. Everyone knew those herbs had healing properties. 

She just hoped that Sylvanas knew how to mix them correctly.

Jaina sipped at the tea. It was overwhelmingly floral, but the warmth of it seemed to flow through her very bones and pooled in that places that hurt her most. She took a longer drink, hoping for more relief.

The elf above her smiled triumphantly. Now only the light of the fire was outlining her against the night. 

Tides, she was really beautiful in this light. It was just not fair. Even some lowly little soldier elf could look stunning out here in the middle of nowhere on a camping trip. Jaina felt like she had to spend hours each morning to even look presentable enough to go to class.

The warmth in Jaina’s cheeks was maybe not the tea's fault after all. 

“That should help,” Sylvanas told her, then lifted her further up. “I'm going to sit you up now so you can eat, all right?”

Jaina nodded, finding herself more than a little lost in the feeling of warm relief that was washing over her, though not entirely sure if it was all due to the restorative tea or not.

Finally sitting, she could see the simple campsite Sylvanas had made for them. It consisted of nothing more than the fire in a pit lined with a few stones, a rabbit carcass roasting over them, and a small leather travel pack cast off to the side. 

Satisfied that Jaina seemed steady enough sitting up on her own, Sylvanas went over to the pack and started rummaging through it. She eventually produced a small metal plate, a wedge of white cheese, and some travel bread. She went over to the rabbit, skillfully removed a back quarter of the roasted animal with her knife and added it to the plate, then moved to hand it to Jaina. “Remember to use your left hand, Lady Proudmoore. As amusing as it would be to watch you try to take this with the right, I don’t want to have to go find another rabbit in the dark,” she said as she offered it.

Jaina found herself questioning whether or not that was a joke as she took the proffered meal. “How did you…?” she found herself starting to ask as she worked out how to juggle the plate onto her lap with her non-dominant hand.

But Sylvanas was back to digging in her pack again, and seemed to willfully ignore the question. She came up with another portion of travel bread and went about carving some choice pieces of rabbit for herself with her knife. She lifted her makeshift sandwich to Jaina in a little toast, then demanded, “Eat. You need your strength to recover. The tea alone won’t fix you.”

So she did. It was simple fare, but honestly delicious. Jaina hadn’t realized that she was hungry until she was a few bites in. Then she was suddenly ravenous. Halfway through her plate, she was hardly worth of the title of Lady.

Sylvanas didn’t seem to be perturbed. She smiled again and ate her food with a similar speed and lack of concern for etiquette, cross-legged and lit only by firelight. 

Before Jaina knew it, Sylvanas was taking the plate from her, empty of all but bones. She dumped those into the fire and started carving up the rest of the meat before Jaina could even ask for seconds.

“Thank you again,” Jaina said as she watched. “For your help. I am truly in your debt.”

“I am only glad that I was here to help. Like I said before, you are lucky that’s the case,” Sylvanas replied, handing the plate of rabbit meat back to Jaina. 

“You should have some more of this,” Jaina said, feeling guilty as she realized there was no more food. “You shot it, after all.”

Sylvanas waved that thought away. “I’ve had plenty, thank you. Please, don’t worry about me.”

Seemingly discontent with sitting still for too long, she went over to her pack again and busied herself with untying the bedroll at the top of it. 

Jaina continued to watch the elf as she ate the rest of the rabbit. Sylvanas set about clearing stones from an area of ground only a few feet from her, then set the mat on top of it. She then unfastened her cloak and slipped the hood off of her head. Jaina marveled at how she deftly navigated her ears out of the holes that were cut for them. Ear holes. Who would have thought? The cloak was soon spread at the end of the bedroll, ready to act as a makeshift blanket. 

Then Sylvanas was back to her again, taking her plate and stepping off to rinse it off with water from a canteen that she seemingly produced from thin air. Only when she turned did Jaina see that it must have had a place on her hip. The elven decorations on her clothes did a clever job of hiding their utility behind a mask of elegance. 

“You must do this often,” Jaina observed, somewhat in awe of the efficiency at which Sylvanas completed these simple tasks.

“Not as often as I would like, believe me,” Sylvanas told her. “Did you drink the rest of that tea?”

There was a little left. Jaina fumbled with the mug, draining the rest of the lukewarm liquid it contained. “I have now,” she said.

Sylvanas wordlessly took the mug from her and rinsed it out as well. Finally satisfied, she turned back to Jaina, one hand on her hip. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You should hopefully be comfortable enough to sleep,” Sylvanas noted, then, without asking, walked behind Jaina and scooped her up into a bridal carry, then took a step toward the bed roll.

“Hey! I think I could...ouch...get there myself. Shit! Ow!” Jaina protested.

Sylvanas grunted, clearly having underestimated her burden, but she carried Jaina all the same. “We’re not taking any chances, little mage. _Belore!_ Not so little, I guess. You humans are...dense.”

Despite her complaints, Sylvanas still managed to get her onto the roll, and, much to the credit of the ranger's wiry strength, only dropped her just a little too hard and a little too quickly.

Well, maybe Jaina was lighter without her dignity. She huffed, but otherwise kept her thoughts to herself. She tried to remember all the courtly manners she learned in Lordaeron, and steadied her thoughts with those teachings. Now was not the time to sulk.

And Sylvanas’ little smirk was a bit too hard to stay mad at.

“And now I’m taking your bed,” Jaina said, gingerly gesturing to her surroundings. “Where will you sleep?”

Sylvanas chuckled at her again as she covered Jaina with her cloak. “I’ll be keeping watch, at least for a little while. Again, don’t worry about me.”

She did as she said, stepping away and taking her post on the edge of the fire, just barely in Jaina’s field of vision. 

Belly full, pains dulled, guarded by what appeared to be an experienced elven ranger, and laying on a bed roll that was honestly more comfortable than her own bed in the dormitory back in Dalaran, Jaina should have had an easy enough time going to sleep. But now, with her survival not an immediate concern, she had time to think, and to worry. 

She was in so much fucking trouble, wasn’t she?

She silently rehearsed speeches and apologies to just about every authority figure she could think of. Professor Brightsinger? Absolutely. Archmage Antonidas? Why not? King Anasterian Sunstrider of the High Elves? Sure. She would probably be made to at least write him a letter. And her mother. Tides, her mother…

Just as she reached the peak of her worries, Sylvanas began to sing.

It was soft, but there were words this time, not just a hummed melody. Words in a language Jaina did not understand. Her grasp of Thalassian was limited mostly to choice curse words and a few basic phrases like greetings and goodbyes. 

But she didn’t need to know the words. The melody spoke for the song just as well. Culturally very different from the sea shanties of her youth, the soaring operas of Lordaeron, or the bawdy ballads so favored by her fellow students in Dalaran, Jaina could still recognize the notes of a proud anthem. Sylvanas’ voice was just as lovely as the rest of her. She must have thought Jaina to be asleep already, so she carried on with the tune. 

Maybe it was a tactic to keep herself awake, but for Jaina, the effect proved to be the exact opposite. 

She woke to another mug of tea being pressed to her lips, this time with Sylvanas’ insistent expression very clear in the light of morning. 

“Drink this again, please,” she said as she noticed Jaina stirring. “I’m afraid you’ll need to walk a bit today.”

“Let me sit up then,” Jaina protested groggily, groaning a little as she was reminded of all that parts of her that were still very much broken.

Sylvanas helped her up with little complaint, then pushed the mug into her left hand.

Jaina could see she had already put out the fire. Concerned, she asked, “Why do we need to move? Are there more beasts in this forest that you haven’t told me about?”

“Not that we’d need to worry about,” Sylvanas said. “But I doubt you’ll want to spend the rest of our time waiting here soaked to the bone.” She pointed upwards. 

Sure enough, the bits of sky that weren’t covered by leaves were in fact an ominous shade of grey. A substantial-looking storm was about to open up above them.

“Of course it would rain,” Jaina lamented. “So there’s shelter nearby?”

“A cave,” Sylvanas told her. “About two miles south of here. Otherwise, we can try finding a hollow tree, if you can’t make it that far. We don’t have long, though. Please, drink that and see if you can stand.”

Jaina did as she was told, taking a mouthful of the floral tea. The rush of warmth it brought was heady, but she managed to down it all with two more such sips. 

“Good,” Sylvanas praised, snatching the mug from her and standing. She then offered a hand to Jaina to help her up.

While it was neither fun nor pleasurable, Jaina did manage to stand, but not without a few more exclamations of pain. Yes, her collar bone was definitely broken. Of that, she was now very certain.

Sylvanas kept hold of her hand for a moment, waiting to see if she was able to keep herself up. Jaina noted that they were just about of a height. Funny. Most female elves were shorter than her. 

Sylvanas let go. “Okay, we’ll see how far you can go.”

Jaina nodded, trying to bolster her own confidence. 

What followed was an agonizingly slow hike through a too quiet forest. Sylvanas was both wonderfully patient with her, but also very keenly aware of the fact that they were inevitably going to be drenched. Within the first few minutes of walking, she'd already found Jaina a perfect walking stick to lean on, and had managed to point out, then harvest several handfuls edible mushrooms, promising them for breakfast once they made it to the cave.

As they went on, Sylvanas broke off the twigs of low-hanging branches in a particular pattern, and explained as she caught Jaina staring that this was a sign for the other rangers to follow. 

The most impressive thing, though, was when Sylvanas sighed heavily, then handed Jaina her cloak.

“Why?” Jaina asked, not yet taking the offered garment.

Sylvanas said nothing in response. She just threw the cloak over Jaina, whipping the hood up over her head just in time to shield it from the first drops of rain. Said drops became sheets of cold water only moments later.

“Are we close?” Jaina found herself shouting over the rain as she pulled the cloak tighter to her with her good hand.

“Close enough,” Sylvanas told her.

She looked ridiculous, already drenched. The rain washed the kohl liner from her eyes, leaving grey streaks down her cheeks. It flattened her once perfect hair, and weighed down her delicate ears, which kept trying to flick the moisture away in vain. She looked like a cat that had fallen off a dock, and seemed to be just as happy about it as said cat would be.

Jaina had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. 

But Sylvanas soldiered through it all the same, even having Jaina lean on her for the last quarter mile. They were both soaked through by the time they reached the cave. It was nothing special, really more of an overhang of rock near a riverbed, but it was dry in there, and sheltered from the wind that was starting to pick up around them.

Jaina found herself tumbling into its dry confines in a heap of hurt, cradling her broken wrist with her good hand. Sylvanas didn't offer much in the way of consolation. There was none. They were both miserable. Still, she shook some of the water off of herself, then went back to work unpacking her bag again. She produced a small copper pot from it, then eyed the riverbank.

“I'll be back,” she offered, and went out into the rain again.

And she was before Jaina could really even catch her breath again. This time, with a pot full of water in one hand, and a good-sized fish in the other.

“How?” was all Jaina could ask.

Sylvanas only offered a wet shrug for an explanation. She put down her prizes on the cave floor, then went into one of the darker corners at the back of the cavern, only to come back with an armful of dry wood.

Before Jaina could ask about that, Sylvanas answered for her, “I put this here on another trip. Yes, I do come to these woods a lot. Yes, I am very well-prepared and an excellent ranger beyond all compare, thank you.”

She proceeded to stack the wood up into a neat campfire, then dug into her pack again. And kept digging, and digging. Eventually she dumped the entire thing out, revealing only a few soggy possessions, but obviously not what she was looking for. Her ears sank, dropping in defeat. 

“I take that last part back then,” Sylvanas said, “since I seem to have left my tinderbox back at our other camp. I can try a bow drill, I suppose, but that will take a while.”

“Wait,” Jaina said, stopping her before she could get up again. “Let me see if I can help this time.”

She’d never tried to cast left-handed before, but there was no better time than the present. The fact that she'd started shivering didn't help either, but she managed to correctly weave a simple fire rune with shaking, clumsy fingers. A tiny puff of flame was summoned out of the arcane energy surrounding them, just enough to catch on the dry tinder at the bottom of Sylvanas’ fire stack.

“Now it’s my turn to be impressed,” Sylvanas said with a wry smile. “I might actually start to believe your teleport story if you keep this up.”

Jaina was also pretty impressed with herself, in all honesty. “Sadly, teleportation requires both hands, or I would take us somewhere very warm and dry. A desert, maybe.”

“A pity. Well, we shall have to make do on our own then,” Sylvanas said pragmatically as she put her bow and quiver aside, then began the shrug out of her jerkin.

And she was out of it faster than Jaina could protest. Thankfully, she had something on underneath--something not quite fit for the rugged terrain as the rest of her clothes. 

Jaina finally gathered enough of her wits to cough loudly as Sylvanas went to do the same with her boots, and then her leggings.

Grey-blue eyes met hers with a flare of annoyance in them. In the low light of the cave, Jaina could see the faint glow they gave off. “What? Oh, right. Well, now is not the time for your silly human taboos. It’s only going to get colder if this storm keeps up and we need to get dry.”

Sure enough, Sylvanas was down to just her underwear, which was surprisingly more elegant even than the rest of her attire. It exposed far too much of her smooth skin, now speckled with goosebumps and a few scars here and there. Everything about her spoke of how lean and strong she was, with the telltale muscled shoulders of an archer.

“Now you.”

Jaina had never heard a more terrifying phrase in her life.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sylvanas warned. “I can see you shivering. Unless you have some special clothes-drying magic that you can work one-handed as well, then you know I’m right. At least I hope you do. Do they teach you how to survive at your mage college, or at least some common sense?”

“I...I might need help,” Jaina relented after a long pause.

Sylvanas simply nodded and stood, coming up behind her to lift the sodden cloak off of her. 

“I will stop if you tell me you’re uncomfortable, but unless you’d like to crack your ribs any further with those shivers, you should let me take off as much as you can stand,” Sylvanas told her as she move to unfasten the clasps of her robe.

Her clothes were in ruins anyway, torn in several places from her fall through the trees the day before, and now sodden with rain. “I have a shift on under the robe,” Jaina started to explain.

“You can keep it, then,” Sylvanas said. “That should dry out quickly enough anyway. Now, arms out, please. As far as you can hold them.”

She did her best to gently peel the wet silk from Jaina’s body, making little tsks of concern as she revealed a host of new scrapes and bruises. The worst part by far was getting it off her shoulders and arms. That damn collar bone again. After that, the rest just fell away into a soggy puddle around her knees. 

Sylvanas helped her scoot her way out of the remains of her robe and out of the slippers that had proven to be a poor choice of footwear for an adventure in the forest, wet or dry, leaving Jaina to try of maneuver herself in a way that left her feeling less exposed in the damp cotton of her shift. Still, she had to admit that, while embarrassing, this was infinitely better than stewing in her wet clothes. She could already feel the fire’s warmth creeping into her skin.

Sylvanas didn’t share her reservations, and seemed to care little for how much of her own skin was exposed as she set out both her leathers and Jaina’s robe to dry on the opposite side of the fire. True to form, she didn’t stay still when there was work to be done, and in the space of a few minutes, had gutted and scaled the fish over near the cave entrance, washed it out with rain water, skewered it to roast over the flames, and set the pot of water on to boil. Only then did she sit back down, as far from Jaina as she could while still getting her own share of the fire.

Sylvanas chanced a brief glance at Jaina, but then immediately turned her eyes back to the flames. “You’re not shivering anymore,” she noted.

“No, I’m not. And thank you, again. I feel like you’re starting to get tired of me saying that,” Jaina said. “I think this last hour has been a stark reminder that I would definitely be on death’s door now if you didn’t find me.”

The tension between them disappeared as Sylvanas’ little chuckle sliced through the air again, laughing in anticipation of what she was about to say. “Well, it’s my duty to protect all the denizens of the forest, even the ones that don’t belong here.”

Jaina laughed with her this time. “And who knew that you would be doing it all in a set of matching lace underwear underneath your ranger leathers.”

“It seems I am one of your fancy elves after all,” Sylvanas confided. “I’m afraid you’ve seen right through me, Lady Proudmoore. Quite literally.”

So breakfast consisted of roasted fish and mushrooms that Sylvanas showed her how to bake in the coals of the fire, wrapped in some sort of leaf that she’d also grabbed during their run to the cave. They ate and talked of the few things they had in common, which were at that moment, a deep hatred for the rain and a great desire for heartier food. Jaina went into far too much detail about a cheese souffle she favored from a certain cafe in Dalaran, while Sylvanas told her of a spicy venison stew the rangers often made in the winter. They drank the warmed water, taking turns sipping it directly from the pot, and holding it in their hands to warm them.

The rain kept falling, and they kept chatting. Their clothes were slow to dry. Sylvanas decided to brave the rain again to try to get another fish after a few hours, as the rain showed no signs of stopping. She came back soaking wet again, but with two different fish, and some roots she promised would make for a decent soup when combined with them. She went about cutting and cleaning and cooking. Jaina complained about professor Brightsinger and confessed the mistake that got her there in the first place. Sylvanas warned her that she should expect to never hear the end of it. They just kept talking.

“Your Common is actually really good,” Jaina eventually noted. “I’m going to venture a guess you’ve met your fair share of humans.”

“Mmm, a good guess,” Sylvanas said as she stirred the little pot of soup with a stick. “What you call the Second War was a deciding factor. Most elves were forced to learn Common then, rangers especially.”

“But that was years ago!” Jaina protested.

Sylvanas’ ears pointed upward, as did her long eyebrows. 

“Oh right. That’s nothing to you. It’s just...you seem so young. I mean, you look it, at least. Elves still just confuse me,” Jaina babbled on, finally stopping herself before she could sound any more like an idiot.

“I’m not that old, well, in relative terms. But yes, I knew your language even before then, but the human soldiers we fought beside then helped me to perfect it. They were even so kind as to teach me all of those fun things you were saying as when you were tripped over those roots before,” Sylvanas told her.

“I’m from Kul Tiras,” Jaina explained. “I grew up around sailors. I may have had my fair share of etiquette lessons and spend my days trading pleasantries over tomes of arcane knowledge these days, but sometimes, there’s no better word than ‘fuck’ to describe a situation.”

Sylvanas laughed. “It is a satisfying one, I’ll give you that.”

The rain kept on. Their soup finished cooking. They ate it and both lamented the lack of salt, but it was better than nothing. This time they talked of desserts--of hearty Kul Tiran pies and delicate pastries from the corner shops in Silvermoon. The sun, thought they hadn’t seen it at all that day, began to set. Night began to fall with the rain.

Sylvanas kept an eye on the cave mouth all evening, but there was no sign of a ranger squad approaching. “The rain must have set them back,” she said, finally giving up on them as darkness fully claimed the world outside. 

“There’s nothing you can do,” Jaina offered. “No need to fret over it. They will get here when they get here.”

“It’s not going to be a comfortable night for you,” Sylvanas told her. “You can put on a brave face all you like, and I admire your courage for that, but you’re not fooling anyone. I know you’re in pain.”

“A pain that’s been liveable for the last two days, with your help, of course. I’m sure I can make it through another,” Jaina assured her. Her robes had dried a while back, and were now warm and soft against her skin again. 

Sylvanas’ leathers hadn’t fared so well, and were still heavy with damp, even as she checked on them for the third time that hour. She’d had to settle for just her cloak thus far, and had wrapped it around herself against the night’s chill. 

She sat back down, this time right next to Jaina, as she had been for most of the evening that she wasn’t pacing around. “I like this Jaina Proudmoore more than the frightened girl I first met,” she observed.

“I swear I’m much better company when I haven’t just fallen out of the sky,” Jaina joked. “I promise that I’m even wittier when I haven’t been sore and aching for two solid days.”

“That’s exactly the kind of fire that would normally earn you a friendly punch in the shoulder from me--if you weren’t sore and aching, that is,” Sylvanas told her.

“And here I thought that bland fish soup was your greatest gift yet,” Jaina went on.

“I’m a ranger, not a chef.”

They both shared a laugh over that, too long and too hard to the point where Jaina’s ribs begged her to forget that humor was even a concept within her understanding. 

“We should sleep,” Sylvanas finally said. “My squadron won’t travel by night in a storm like this, so we might as well rest as they do.”

“Mmm,” was all Jaina could offer. As much as she wanted to stay up and continue bantering--and as refreshing as it was to do so with someone that didn’t seem to expect anything out of her other than a little entertainment--she was tired. Sleep did seem to be a good idea.

“I’m afraid we’re really roughing it tonight, since my bed roll is still soaked. At least you have your clothes,” Sylvanas said. She was up again, gathering more wood from her stockpile to stoke the fire for the night.

“You’re keeping that cloak on you, so help me. Don’t even try to offer it to me,” Jaina commanded. 

“If the Lady insists,” Sylvanas relented as she re-appeared and began to stack the wood strategically around the coals.

“You’re so certain I’m a Lady, even after all of the bad words you’ve heard me say today?” Jaina had to ask.

“I am certain that you’ll find that the name of Proudmoore is well-known even this far outside of Kul Tiras,” Sylvanas informed her. “And we elves are nothing if not concerned with petty things like rules and titles and traditions. Now, go to sleep, Lady Proudmoore.”

Jaina found herself smiling, even as she gingerly laid herself down. While Sylvanas somehow knew who she was, the only thing that changed about how she spoke to her was the way she said her name. There were very few people in her life that she could say the same for. Arthas, maybe, but he didn’t count, as he was just as beholden to his own name and title as she was to hers. 

Jaina drifted off again, hoping that the other rangers would both take their time so that she could spend another day with such refreshing company, but also that they would hurry, because she was really starting to get tired of the constant ache that had taken over her entire body.

A noise woke her in the night. The fire was low, mostly coals. It provided little light to show her what it was. Jania took stock of her surroundings. She was warm. It was dark. The low light outlined a shape near her. A shivering elf, sans cloak. 

A shivering elf that stirred in her sleep, whimpering at the cold, no doubt.

Jaina grunted, rolling herself painfully toward Sylvanas. As she might have guessed, the ranger’s cloak was tucked over her, which made the process even more difficult. Still, she managed to untangle herself from it and scoot to the Sylvanas’ side. Jaina then drapped the cloak over both of them, and did her best to share the warmth it brought her with its owner.

“What happened to your common sense, hmm?” Jaina found herself asking aloud.

Sylvanas didn’t stir enough to answer, but sleepily curled up into the warmth and eventually stopped shaking.

Jaina woke again to the morning. The sun was just starting to shine off of the now calm waters of the river, making for a blinding assault as she opened her eyes. But when she looked down, it was a different story.

Sylvanas still lay curled against her chest, still asleep beneath the cloak that covered both of them. Slumber softened her sharp features just a little, giving her again the look of a cat, but this time a contented one. Her ears were still, drooping a little as they seemed to get their own sort of rest. Needless to say, she was absolutely adorable. So much so that Jaina couldn’t resist the strange urge she felt to press a little kiss to her forehead.

Just as those long ears shot up, and a pair of blue eyes bathed Jaina in a confused glow, a sharp whistle came piercing through the air. Sylvanas gave her one more bewildered glance before she shot up and answered it with a similar whoop.

The rangers arrived in short order, leaving Sylvanas just enough time to get dressed and get Jaina back into a sitting position. Thankfully, not enough time to ask her what she was thinking.

With them came a quick chatter of Thalassian that Jaina wouldn’t have had a hope of following even if she knew the language a little better. The only things she had a hope of understanding were their gestures and tone. Many of the rangers pointed back out of the cave, while others seemed to express concern over Sylvanas. 

Strangely, Sylvanas seemed to become an entirely different person around them. Her stance even changed, marking her as every bit of a hardened warrior. Her tone was different as well. She seemed to bark commands at them. As soon as she got the information she wanted, she singled out an elven woman in robes and briskly pointed her toward Jaina.

Wait...was she in charge? It sure seemed like it.

The priestess quickly went to work on healing Jaina’s wounds. She knelt beside her, introducing herself in an admonished mumble before she began to cast a series of healing spells. Jaina could almost instantly feel the relief of being whole again as her broken bones knit back together, thanks to the holy magic. She only wished she knew the Thalassian word for “thank you”, but settled for saying it at least five times in Common as the priestess went about her work.

After only a few minutes, her right hand was her own to move again. She could roll her shoulders without pain, and was no longer dreading the effect of each hard breath she took against her ribs. 

But the greatest relief of all came when she was finally able to weave a proper arcane rune with her right hand. The priestess nodded, satisfied and went off to report to Sylvanas. Jaina smiled to herself, feeling the familiar thrum of magical power return to her call. So of course, the first thing she did with it was to cast Arcane Brilliance on herself when none of the elves were watching. Thankfully, none of them seemed to be in tune with the arcane enough to notice. They didn’t need to know that she could now understand their language, or at least she would be able to until the spell wore off.

“They had us carry a beacon so they could portal in when we found you,” one of the rangers reported. She held up a small golden object for Sylvanas to see. “It couldn’t be helped, Lady Windrunner. The orders came from the king himself.”

Sylvanas groaned in response, but still kept her authoritative tone. “By the light of the sun, that’s the last thing I needed. This Proudmoore girl is so important then?”

“I think they’re more concerned with what she’s managed to do, not who she is,” the ranger went on. “So that’s why Brightsinger went directly to the king. I’m sorry, Lady Windrunner. I know you have little patience for Prince Kael’thas, but he’ll be here with the mages any minute now.”

Windrunner, hmm? It was a name that Jaina felt like she should know, but couldn’t recall at the moment. Now Prince Kael’thas was one she knew well enough. He was a friend. Well, what she would call a friend publically. Mostly because he was a good friend to have--being the heir to the throne of Silvermoon and all. In reality, he was a tolerated acquaintance, the epitome of the annoying, haughty elven mages of Dalaran--a complete polar opposite of Sylvanas.

Jaina could see why she wouldn’t be thrilled about his impending presence.

But wait, why was he coming for her? 

Sylvanas barked out another question for the ranger, “I take it you brought my armor for me?”

The other woman nodded. She seemed to be some sort of officer. At least her uniform seemed to be a little more ornate than those of the other rangers that clustered around her.

“Good, bring it to me then. I don’t want to be scolded for being under-dressed for his highness,” Sylvanas sneered.

The officer saluted her acknowledgement, or at least Jaina thought she did. She was unfamiliar with their gestures. She then took a few of her fellows with her over to some packs they had brought with them and began to reveal their contents. Elegant pauldrons, shining with gold and rimmed with delicate feathers. A beautiful, flowing cloak that shamed the one that had covered them during the night for even existing. Bright bits of chainmail with golden accents, all in nature motifs--giving the abstract suggestion of leaves and vines.

Fuck. Windrunner. Windrunner. Why couldn’t Jaina remember what was important about that name? Why hadn’t she asked for it before?

The rangers helped Sylvanas into her amror with practiced efficiency. Soon Sylvanas Windrunner was the picture of elven glory, covered in blue and gold. 

Fuck. Sylvanas Windrunner. It finally clicked. Jaina could almost hear her history tutor from back in her days at the court of Lordaeron drone on, talking of the heroic deeds of the Windrunner sisters in the Second War. Sylvanas Windrunner was the middle sister--the Ranger General of Silvermoon, the head of the entire military of Quel’thalas.

Fuck.

She stepped toward Jaina, regality weighing on her as heavily as her armor. She politely offered her a hand to help her stand. Jaina took it with a new reservation that she found herself hating.

So much for making a friend she could actually talk to. Of course this one had to be important too. 

“You’re looking much better, Lady Proudmoore. I’m afraid we have more company coming, and that I owe you a bit of an explanation,” Sylvanas began again in Common for her as she lifted Jaina up. 

She didn’t get much time to explain. The company arrived only a few minutes later, and turned out to be a cluster of high-ranking elven mages that Jaina was vaguely familiar with, along with Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider and a worried-looking professor Brightsinger, who had the honor, or perhaps punishment of portaling them all in.

“Lady Proudmoore!” Kael’thas cried out as soon as he saw her. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”

He strode over to embrace her, and Jaina tolerated the hug, dodging his ridiculously large shoulder armor as she did. “I was well taken care of,” she managed to tell him. “But can I ask why you’ve been sent after me?”

“I’ll let your teacher explain, as it was her folly that caused this whole mess. I’m just relieved that Lady Windrunner was here to come to your rescue,” Kael’thas said. He then gestured his thanks toward Sylvanas with another one of those odd elven salutes.

She returned it with only a curt nod.

“Brightsinger, please give Lady Proudmoore here the good news,” Kael’thas implored.

It was strange to see the professor’s usual expression of muted contempt replaced with one of dutiful shame. The fiery-haired elven woman made it no secret that she detested Jaina’s showboating nature in her classroom, but here, among her betters, she bowed her head as she approached her. 

“Let me start off by apologizing,” she began. “So, there, I’m sorry. You were...you were not meant to be able to actually do what I asked of you, for many reasons. First, translocation by object recognition is, well, very advanced. I didn’t think you were capable of such a thing, let alone from something as obscure as a dragonhawk feather. Secondly, and more importantly, all of Quel’thalas is protected by runestones and other enchantment wards. Mages must be attuned to them to allow for teleportation within their confines. Otherwise, what good are the elf gates, if an enemy army could just portal their way in? But you...you just brute-forced your way past those protections without even knowing it.”

Jaina tried to recall her teleportation spell. She remembered feeling a little resistance to it, but not much. She was just so drawn to this place, to the wondrous feeling of flight and magic that the dragonhawk’s essence had promised her. 

“Someone with such power needs a better teacher than myself, someone who can help them to reach their potential,” the professor went on. “So effective immediately, you will be apprenticed directly to Archmage Antonidas himself.”

The head of the Kirin Tor. The one of the most powerful mages alive. Jaina was certain that her jaw was hanging open, and it took her more than a few moments to be able to gain enough control over herself to close her mouth, and to realize exactly what Brightsinger was telling her. “You set me up to fail,” she finally said.

Professor Brightsinger’s glowing blue eyes were firmly on the ground as she answered. “Yes, I thought you needed some humbling. Instead, you got to prove me very wrong, and I got you injured and stuck in a strange land. If it pleases you, Lady Proudmoore, I would like to consider us even, with a promise from me that I will not stand in the way of your education again. I know now that you will be very important to the Kirin Tor in the future. I would humbly ask your forgiveness for this oversight, so that we might consider one another good colleagues in the future.”

Jaina wasn’t used to this. Even with her name and her title and everything that came with it, she had spent most of her nineteen years of life up to that point being looked upon as a silly little girl playing with magic. This respect, well, this was all very new.

“I...I forgive you, and I’m sorry I gave you so much trouble, professor. I think you’re right about me needing to conduct myself with a little more humility,” Jaina acknowledged. “But I think that I’ve already learned quite a bit from this last experience. I will do my best to keep it up.”

As the professor all but bowed her way out of the conversation, Sylvanas swept in before Kael’thas could come at her again. “Well then,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but had gained back a bit more of the casual sass that Jaina had become familiar with over the last few days. “Now that I understand everything, I see what all the fuss is about. So you really did fall out of the sky, as you said.”

“What else did you think happened?” Jaina asked her.

“I don’t know. None of the other scenarios I thought up made any sense. Still, it made for an interesting way to spend my vacation,” Sylvanas professed with a wry smile.

“Which I ruined,” Jaina groaned. 

“Think of it as an unplanned diversion,” Sylvanas offered. “And it allowed me to meet an up and coming member of the Kirin Tor. I suppose that could prove useful.”

“That’s all true then, with the wards and runestones?” Jaina asked her.

Sylvanas nodded. “And that’s why I didn’t believe you at first. But if you truly did accidentally bypass them, then well, I have to say that I’m glad your people are our allies.”

Behind them, near the riverbank, the crowd of elves was stirring to order, as more portals were opened. Silvermoon shimmered behind one of them in a host of blue and gold. The purple spires of Dalaran stood tall in another. Sylvanas turned to watch them briefly, ears twitching in what Jaina now thought she knew to be an expression of annoyance. Maybe disappointment?

“It seems our adventure is quickly coming to its end,” Sylvanas noted. She held a gauntleted hand out for Jaina to shake. “Good luck in your studies, Lady Proudmoore. I am sure that we’ll meet again someday, if you keep up with these ‘accidents’ of yours. May the sun shine on us next time.”

Jaina shook her hand. “I hope that I wasn’t too much of a burden. You...you should have told me who you were. I still don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Sylvanas’ little smirk was back. “That would have ruined the fun of it all. As for a thank you, save it. Maybe I will let you treat me to that cheese souffle you went on about, should I ever find myself in Dalaran.”

“It’s a deal,” Jaina promised her. She shook her hand again, and lamented that she would have to let go. 

Despite her change of clothes, Sylvanas was still the snarky little ranger that had tended to her in those two days. Maybe not publically, but privately, nothing between them had changed.

Jaina was only glad that Sylvanas turned away from her so that she didn’t have to see the heat rising in her cheeks at that thought.

Three days later, as she was situating her books on a shelf in her new, private room in the Violet Citadel--one of the many perks of being the Archmage’s apprentice she was now enjoying--an elven courier knocked on her door, bearing a small package and a letter for her.

Jaina had no idea who it could be from, but opened the package first anyway. She just couldn’t help herself. It contained a beautiful, but very practical knife, with a handle of carved antler and golden filigree, and a blade of good, shining steel. Elven, no doubt, as all such finely-crafted things were. 

So of course Jaina had to tear open the letter immediately afterward.

_For your future adventures. You should always carry a good knife, since you never know when you might fall out of the sky and break your wrist in the process. Remember that magic isn’t always the answer. May it defend you from lynxes and the attentions of aggravating elven princes alike._

_\- Sylvanas_

It took her another three days to come up with a response, and to find the perfect gift to accompany it, but Jaina eventually flagged down another courier headed for Silvermoon, and gave him a package of her own to deliver.

She just wished she could see the look on Sylvanas’ face when she opened it to find a tinderbox, carved with a scene of sailing ships and other Kul Tiran motifs. And Jaina’s own letter, of course.

_I was going to have the carver write “Don’t forget me” on this in Thalassian, but I thought that might be in poor taste. So instead, you will just have to remind yourself of the bothersome human mage you helped every time you almost leave this behind. Thank you again. So, when are you coming to Dalaran?_

_\- Jaina_


End file.
